The Theft of the Dreamer
by Celebnaur
Summary: It's the Great War, and with the people's cries to remember the hero that helped form their nation, America must now meet with the very person that helped shape him. The person that has stayed through the years, and raised America beyond the Revolution.


May 7, 1917

The people cried it over and over. It was a simple two-word phrase that taunted and persuaded America to fall into a pit that had consumed Europe already. But it was also a remembrance of loyalty and obligation. A commemoration to that which helped build America and still somewhat kept him together through years of isolation. America sat uncomfortably in his cabin on the ship and thought out just how special this relationship was that it was pulling him into a chaotic storm of promises and other obligations. Memories that should have faded long ago still stood visibly in the forefront of his mind, there to remind him of all the decades gone by.

* * *

><p>December 13, 1777<p>

Southeastern Pennsylvania

"France, please stand up. When you said you were willing to help me, I didn't expect your assistance to be you keeping that stump from blowing in the wind." America partially glared at the older man sitting casually on a snow-capped stump. France calmly rested one foot on his opposite knee and leant over, grinning at the younger boy.

"Oh America, I am not keeping the stump from flying away, rather, I am keeping the ground underneath it from doing so." America grimaced before shivering and adjusting the muskets that hung desperately over his shoulder. France could not help but grin as he saw the young looking man before him, snow landing in his shaggy hair (it had gone unkempt for quite some time), over laden with satchels and two guns. His blue eyes were vibrant in the sea of white, wide and worried. France stood up, donned in his light blue military suit, and walked over gracefully to the other man.

"Come on, France, Washington and Lafayette are waiting for us." France made his typical grin and walked up to the worried boy. They began walking, the light crunching noise of compressed snow following them

"Are you not cumbered by all that baggage, my boy?" France asked, lightly prodding it. America kept a stern face, his eyes set on the imaginary path set in the blanket of ice. France laughed silently to himself at the boy's determination. War often did that to men. It made even the most foolish set their eyes on aspirations to uphold, he thought. That was not to say that France thought America was foolish, it was just odd seeing him so serious about something. On the contrary, even without being present in a larger portion of the boy's life, he knew from the bragging tales that England brought home that America could be rather cunning. France snickered as he imagined the little mechanical scarecrow he had been told America had made out of a clock, a wooden post, and one of England's favorite shirts.

"In case you have forgotten, I can lift thirty times my own weight," America said, his words muffled from pressing his chin into the collar of his shirt. The poor boy only has minimal clothing, France thought to himself.

"Ah, of course, but does the cold not make it unbearable? Do you want me to take some of it?" America shook his head and readjusted the items again.

"I am used to the cold. After you lost Canada in the French and Indian War, England would take me up there all the time." America sighed and looked down at his feet. "Sometimes he would be in such a rush to leave, he would forget to take us back down to South Carolina or Georgia for the winter, and we were stuck all alone in Ontario," he whispered, words still muffled. France's grin softened and he gingerly placed a hand on an occupied shoulder.

"Well, I am guessing that England never taught you a trick for turning cold into warmth," France whispered playfully. He may have missed the better part of America's youth, but he knew deep inside that the boy was still young, and young minds were easily amazed.

"If it's something sexual, France, I don't rea-"

"Oh not at all!" France dropped his hands and ran in front of the taller boy. America glanced at him oddly, hands gripping at the straps of the bags and weapons. The elder extended his hands and carefully pulled America's away from the cloth they so tightly gripped. "Now watch." France turned the hands so that they were palm up and gently leant over so that his mouth almost touched the sensitive skin. America's fingers flinched.

"The air is cold and stinging, yes?"

"Yeah." America glanced curiously down, trying his best not to let his fingers twitch.

"So I breathe in that same air-" France inhaled sharply. "-But when I release it,-" France softly breathed out, the air pooling and swirling over America's bare hands, causing their red color to turn whitish for a moment. "-it is warm and soft." France dropped America's hands and stood back up, smiling softly. America lifted his hands to his face and attempted the actions several times before softly smiling.

France watched and grinned as America continued the process. Behind the facade of an angry and freedom-lusting man, America was still a rather mentally immature youth.

* * *

><p>August 18, 1814<p>

Washington D.C.

"You honestly expected that you would get lucky twice, America?" Footsteps were barely heard over the sound of burning as pillows of smoke inked the sky. "Did you think that France would come saving you, support you and compliment you and care for you?" America glanced up from his position of kneeling on the soggy ground, his hands clutching at his heart. He saw the same emerald eyes he had grown up with, staring back at him. "Speechless? Oh, poor America." America grimaced as England bent over and lifted America's chin so that they were glaring eye-to-eye. "How does it feel to have your capital attacked?" England whispered. America spat in the other's face and prepared himself for a blow to the cheek. Instead he heard sardonic laughter.

"My, my, have you grown to be a disrespectful thing. I suppose that's expected for putting yourself in the presence of damned France." England stood back up and turned around, looking at the sight of the newly made capital slowly burning. People were running from it, yelling and panicked. England frowned, still watching the fire. One of the buildings collapsed, followed by America gasping and clawing at his chest.

"It's a shame... I was honestly hoping to defeat both you and the bastard from the mainland all in one go. I suppose that defeating you and letting the Frog kill himself will have to do for now." England turned back around and looked at America, feigned concern flickering on his face. "Oh America, my dear lad, I am so sorry that your new... replacement brother was infected with whatever hit you in the seventies. It appears he caught an even worse case than you did," England said, laughing at the end of his sentence.

"But, no matter. I am not going to be bitter about something that happened three decades ago. I'll leave now, and I won't travel farther south for a few days. I'll let you heal and then we may resume this. I better hurry back to New York though, Canada is waiting for me there." England began walking over the muddied soil away from America.

Scowling, America collapsed to the ground as pained gasps escaped his mouth. His heart hurt, as if it was being baked and would burst inside his chest. He could feel his heart stopping, but even as he prepared for blackness, he still held concern for the man across the sea, who was slowly killing himself.

* * *

><p>April 13, 1862<p>

Camden, New Jersey

"I feel terrible, France," a soft, mildly scared voice said tiredly. France sadly smiled and wrapped an arm around America's shoulders.

"It is expected in civil uprising. There is a second you running about, fighting for independent rights like you were." France squeezed the younger man's shoulder as they sat on the porch of the large house. America sighed and succumbed to his fatigue, allowing his head to roll on the older man's shoulder.

"I feel terrible for not helping you when you underwent the same thing." France laughed inwardly and lidded his eyes. Even though America could be annoying at times, right now France saw him as a rather precious companion. And he knew America felt the same towards him. After all, America was alone in the world, with not even his own brother to communicate to.

"I am alive now, yes? Surely you must not worry about the past, especially when you have much bigger matters to worry about at the moment."

"But I do worry about it. And I regret it. You helped me so graciously when I sought freedom, but when you called out for help, I worried too much about my own petty problems." France sighed and quickly pressed a kiss into America's scalp. He was slightly too warm, France noted.

"America, you were a blooming new nation that was undergoing its first economic problems. At the time, I may have been... annoyed about you not joining, but I assure you now that it is in the past." France noticed the wiry frames that were missing from the boy's face. He had so proudly worn the spectacles a few decades ago as he triumphantly walked the docks in Bordeaux, exclaiming the trophy he had won from Mexico.

"He mocked the Confederacy," America said quietly, snapping France back to the man on his shoulder.

"Who did?"

"England. England mocked the Confederacy." France scowled at the mention of the other European nation's name. "The states in the Confederacy have been producing cotton for Britain for decades, and they thought that England would help them fight me. Instead he just laughed and turned to Egypt for cotton."

"Well that is good for you, I suppose."

"I guess, but I can't help but feel bad." France widened his eyes and looked at the ill man.

"And why is that?"

"Because the first person he asked to help him, rejected him. And here you are, still talking to me."

France smiled and began carding his hand through the golden hair on his shoulder. He really could not see why people found America so unbearable. Once you calmed him down and sobered him up, he was a peaceful being that could be pained and hurt on behalf of others just as easily as anyone else.

* * *

><p>May 7, 1917<p>

London, England

America slowly walked down the docks of the somewhat hustled streets. He was wearing a clean suit he had been given and was carrying a case filled with dress shirts and slacks. Some of the workers shot him odd glances that bounced vainly off the anxious American. He was looking for someone specific.

"There you are, Alfred." America shot his gaze to the left and saw a slender man leaning against a nearby building. "Oh, did you forget that we use human names out here?" England whispered irritatedly, rolling his eyes. He pushed off the building and walked to the now glaring America.

"Of course I didn't, Arthur," America replied, just as annoyed.

"You're late."

"You're early."

"Shut up, I am not in the mood for pointless banter with a child like you." America scowled and resisted the urge to shout back.

"Where is France?" England sighed exasperatedly.

"In good time, America. Believe me when I say, I would gladly dump your tanned arse off somewhere with Francis. That way I need not worry about encountering either of you." England weaved through the people as they traveled down the streets, shouting and loud noises swarming about.

"Well that's great, because if I had to continue to look at your pasty, limey face for too long, I fear I may go blind." England stopped walking and gawked for a moment as America continued going, not knowing where to exactly. He stopped and looked at his smaller companion.

"Oh come on, Arthur. I've heard you fight with Francis for hours on end without stopping, so why are you stopping with me now." England lifted his head slowly and glared at America before walking faster than before. They stopped in front of a little black car with a driver sitting in the front. England sat down quickly and glared impatiently for the other man.

"You are really an idiot, Alfred," England quipped at America as the taller climbed into his seat in the small automobile.

"Of course I am," America mumbled, rolling his eyes.

After a stiff, bumpy, and rather awkward car ride across the streets of London (with America dozing off several times), the car stopped in front of a well kept town house. England gently prodded America's shoulders several times. After failed attempts, he firmly landed a blow on the younger's arm.

"Shit!" America yelled and quickly glared at England.

"We're here, you prat," England said apathetically as he climbed out of his side of the car. America grumbled and angrily slammed his car door before following England into the house. America attempted to finger over a particular vase in the main hallway but had his hand quickly slapped. "You are not to touch a thing, America. Understand me?" England hissed in the poorly lit hall. America sourly examined his hand and gave a mock 'mm-hmm' to England. England stopped in front of one door and pressed a hand on the knob.

"Now America, he is still rather weak, and since we just pulled him out of his land several days ago, he is still rather tired."

"Since when do you care about how others treat France?" America asked angrily. England sighed.

"We are allies, and we are expected to maintain some level of propriety and give some obeisances to one another."

"And where are the obeisances to me?" England frowned and pushed the door open.

"Just go talk to him. Lord, knows you'd rather than me." America gave a fake grin to England and mildly pushed him aside as he walked into the room. England quietly followed after him.

"Bonjour, America," France said somewhat cheerily. He was sitting upright in the bed with two pillows behind his back and another in his lap. There was an open book in front of him.

"If you say so, France." France smiled and clapped his book shut.

"But it is a good day, is it not? You are here next to me, and although England is still in the room, I will not let that affect me negatively." England scoffed and quickly sat down on a chair on the opposite side of the room. The room was simply adorned with no windows, a desk, chair, a bookshelf, bed, and bedside table. A few naked lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling lit the room.

"Glad to see you two are getting along just fine," England muttered, scowling. France smirked and said something in French to England.

"Why did you just call him lonely?" America asked afterwards. England glanced oddly at America, who was grabbing the chair from the desk and bringing it beside the bed.

"Since when do you speak French, America?" England asked curiously. America laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

"From New Orleans. Canada teaches me occasionally as well. I'm not perfect at it though." America looked at France. "But why did you call him lonely, France? He has an entire empire to accompany him." England scowled again and tried to speak but was interrupted.

"He is lonely because everyone he has ever had a good bond with has left him." France and England were now glaring at each other as America sat confusedly beside the bed. "And the people that he desires to have relations with, do not desire it at all," France said more sternly, smiling teasingly at the irritated Englishman. England frowned, but did not break eye-contact with the Frenchman. After a moment, England stood up.

"Well, I am sure that you two want to be left alone. I'll go have some food prepared," England said softly before he walked out of the room, clasping the door gently behind him. There was silence from the two remaining men as they listened to England grumble and trot down the hall.

"Well, he could've been more cranky," America said jokingly when England's swearing could be heard from far away. France laughed to himself and nodded.

"He is going through a tough time, though. He's trying to help me, and at the same time he has to worry about his empire. And then he has you." France smiled to America. "How are you, by the way?"

"I don't really want to be here, to be honest, so a little frustrated. This was one war I did not want to get involved in."

"None of us really did. It was through a series of misunderstandings and stupid, century-old pacts that anyone but Austria and Serbia are in this." France sighed and rubbed his temples quickly. "I really didn't expect for you to be involved."

"Ha, yea, well neither did I. In fact I am sti-"

"But I am not saddened." America cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. "I do not desire you to become hurt, but a few days ago, I was listening to an American radio station recording being broadcasted here in London." He chuckled and laid back on the bed, arms folded behind his head.

"It was of a certain American crowd chanting a certain little phrase." America still looked confusedly at the older man.

"They were yelling, 'Remember Lafayette'." America's face contorted into a childish grin, his eyes lighting up as France knowingly smirked back.

"Of course we were! We, as Americans, and thus as heroes, cannot let the Germans hold one of our closest friends in a war... situation!" America beamed and continued on preaching an on-the-spot speech to the now overwhelmed elder in the bed. France smiled attentively at the excited man, watching the way his eyes shone and his smile beamed.

Surely, even after all these years, America was still a child forced into maturity too early.

* * *

><p>AN: Just a short little history-lesson oneshot~ :) Well it's about time I did an APH fic that wasn't an AU. If any of you have seen my deviantART page, you will see I am doing a (very cracky) comic series with Arthur, Alfred, and Francis. And after drawing one especially suggestive pic with Al and Francis, this popped in my head. Personally, I think it should be AmeFr since Alfred is taller than Francis (and stronger) but, whatevs, I am up to anything. After researching it, FrUs seems more historically accurate than UsUk :I UsUk is still my OTP, but I now have a soft-spot for this pairing. XD<p>

NOTES:

1.) _**Oh America, my dear lad, I am so sorry that your new... replacement brother was infected with whatever hit you in the seventies. It appears he caught an even worse case than you did. **_I think it's pretty obvious that England is referring to the French Revolution. During the French Revolution, Bonaparte grew desperate to make funds for his evergrowing army, so he sold pretty much the last remaining major French territory in the Americas to the U.S. For a really cheap price too. Even though France was considered to be at its militaristic height during this time, there was civil disorder, paranoia and framing, and a rather poor attempt at rebuilding a nation with practically no economy. Now, I am no French history expert (I've studied British/American/Canadian history, but not French) but I think that after the Napoleonic Wars, France had somewhat of a state of stasis for the next century. I do know, that Britian's (and America's) imperialism only heightened after the War of 1812 though.

2.) _**It is expected in civil uprising. There is a second you running about, fighting for independent rights like you were. **_Contrary to popular belief, the American Civil War was not fought over slavery. It was fought over States' Rights, and the Confederacy was formed to prove to the Union that they joined the Union out of pure choice, and could leave it just as easily. So some states did leave the Union, and fought for the right to act as independent nations when need be (Texas and California were their own nations at some point). I know for a fact that if all the kingdoms in Britain have their own personifications and if there is a Quebec and Ontario (as seen in vol.2) then most definitely there would be state characters in Hetalia. But I also think the Confederacy would be its own entity since it was the 'Confederate States of America'. Has anyone read the doujinshi 'Independent Sky'? If you remember, France told America that there was another entity that represented the people that still supported Britain, 'Loyalist America', because nations were formed when the people in an area had an identity they could relate to each other with and saw themselves as united. Thus, in the doujin we had patriot!America and loyalist!America. It's a really great, heart-wrenching doujin, that I reccomend.

3.) _**After all, America was alone in the world, with not even his own brother to communicate to. **_Since the start of the United States, there had been a powerfully believed in doctrine that we should avoid any possible ties with the Old World, ESPECIALLY Europe. Washington himself told America (the people of) to build a wall blocking the Old World and its ways, so that the new nation would not be corrupted. So we minimized foreign involvement in the Old World, but throughout it all we had two major trading partners. Britain and France. Britain did more trade with the South since they had textiles and whatnot, and France received Northern manufactured goods since it was mostly a farming nation at the time. Since the ties with Britain were still somewhat rocky, and Canada was still heavily occupied with British officials, we did not do much with Canadialand.

4.) _**Remember Lafayette**_. If you round up all the towns in the U.S. that are named Lafayette, and then add them to the total amount of counties with the same name, you'd get over 40 locations. He is greatly revered and seen as one of our biggest ways of remembering just how special France was to us in the Revolutionary War and afterward. Although America joined World War I because Germany tried to convince Mexico to declare war on us, a common motto used by those who wanted to join the war was 'Remember Lafayette'. They believed that we should help the nation that so graciously helped us in the eighteenth century.

Good Gosh, that's the last time I start writing a fanfic at 3 a.m.


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